


Spotlights Will Guide You Home

by Meginoi (Delirious99)



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Eddie died?, M/M, don't know her, i needed write my own fic after watching chapter 2, sorry - Freeform, what do you mean Richie and Eddie didn't get married?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-01-03 21:49:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21186533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delirious99/pseuds/Meginoi
Summary: Eddie died in the sewers of Derry, alone and cold.Or did he?That was the question Richie was asking himself when he met Eddie Kaspbrack again, more than 2 years after he supposedly died.Hopefully updated every Saturday!





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was magic in Derry, and it knew Richie and Eddie's story was far from over. Maybe that's why it did what it did.

Even after they defeated IT, there was some lingering remnants of something supernatural in Derry. One last miracle it had yet to unleash. It had dissipated from the surface, leaving it feeling like any small town in Maine. Yet, under the ground in lingered, namely, in the sewers. It existed deep below the earth, further down than any sane person would go from civilisation. But, if you did reach it down there, you would be able to hear it if you listened carefully, the unbridled energy of it hissing like static in the stale air. It bounced off the damp, cold walls as it trembled with the need to be set loose, to break out of the space it was confined to, like a hissing current trapped in a copper wire. 

It trawled the hallways looking for what it knew was down there to set it free from it’s prison, like a hunter, searching for unsuspecting prey. It made its way into a large cavern, the roof reaching upwards in an optical illusion type manner before ending in a heavy iron grate. A circular hatch had been left open in the floor, the force diving down into it and through the narrow twists and turns it contained. There, it found what it had been looking for. 

It almost squealed in delight, if that was possible, wrapping around the figure resting against the rocks with a crushing intensity. It finally had a purpose, could finally put it’s gifts to use. There was a bright glow, brighter than was safe for the human eye. It dimmed slowly, sinking into the body it clung to. 

There, in the place they had fought Pennywise for the last time, the limp, slumped over body of Edward Kaspbrak twitched. 

\-----

Across town, Richie leaned against his car, waiting for the others to get their shit together. He stared vacantly at the townhouse, a lit cigarette lying forgotten between limp fingers. Had the world always been this grey? Or had it seemingly drained of life the way Eddie had? 

It was September, and the world was filled with colour, or at least it was supposed to be. Richie couldn’t see the oranges and yellows of the decaying leaves, the way they coloured the sidewalk like splashes of paint. 

He knew what they looked like, he had seen them recently. The moment Eddie had walked into the Jade Orient, back into Richie’s life, it was like he had been injected with light, bringing the colours that had become dulled back into amazing technicolour. 

And it had only continued, each bickering joke and laugh had seemed to make Richie’s world brighter. It made him think of when they were kids. 

It was a simpler time, well, apart from the memories of that one summer that had dragged them all back twenty seven years later. Regardless, it was a time he yearned to return to. Memories that Richie had subconsciously ached to remember before coming back to his childhood town. Screaming down the roads with the rest of the losers, a pleasant ache in his legs from pumping the well worn pedals. The warm summer breeze whistled past them, and in that moment, Richie thought they could stay like that forever.

But of course that was naive. All good things must come to an end.

The moment was broken by the sound of a slamming door. Richie looked up, watching as Bev led the rest of the losers down the steps of the old townhouse. She came to a stop in front of him, her face a picture of sympathy. Richie looked away, he couldn’t deal with any form of compassion right now, it might just break down the barrier he was trying so hard to hold up. 

“I still think you should come with me and Ben, Richie. Even if it’s just for a couple of days,” Bev said, her eyes conveying more than her words.  _ ‘You shouldn’t be alone right now.’ _

“And cockblock you and haystack over here? Wouldn’t dream of it,” Richie quipped, yet it held none of his usual brand of sarcasm, it felt fake and plastic in his mouth. . 

“Richie…” Bev started, reaching out a comforting hand. 

“I’m fine! Really Bev, i’m fine. There’s some...stuff i need to do before I go back to New York anyway. Wouldn’t wanna hold you up.” 

Bev sighed, it was obvious there was no convincing him. Ever since Richie was a child, if he set his mind to something there was no detering him from it. 

“You need a-anything, man, y-you call us. Any of us,” Bill insisted, stepping forward. 

Richie nodded, knowing that if he spoke his voice would betray his anguish as his throat closed up. He could always count on the others to have his back, they had when they were kids and they did now. How he got through those 27 years without them he would never know. 

Heartfelt goodbyes were exchanged. Richie felt like a robot as he hugged each of his friends in turn, avoiding the pitiful looks they held in their eyes. Soon enough, they had all dissipated, heading towards the highway or the airport. 

Yet, Richie couldn’t bring himself to move, not quite yet, he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Eddie, who he could just imagine lying lifeless in that shithole. How could he have just left him there? He should have fought harder, fought to stay with Eddie even if it meant- 

He sighed, forcing his legs to move towards his car. He had always loved his car, racing down the highway just for the hell of it was one of the few reprieves he got from his cluttered thoughts. But now it just felt like a constricting metal prison, one with plush seats and a top of the range sound system but a prison nonetheless. So, with the gas pedal pushed to the floor, he sped through the town towards his last stop before once more trying to put all of this bullshit behind him. 

The kissing bridge was on the edge of town. It looked a lot more dilapidated than Richie remembered it, the red paint of the bridge peeling into tiny flakes, covering the ground in what reminded Richie of blood. The wooden planks had certainly become more weathered with time, the many carvings on them becoming faded and forgotten. 

Except one. 

Richie kneeled down, eyes scanning past the faint carvings and finding what he was looking for almost instantly. It was still there, staring proudly back at him almost exactly how he had left it. The carving of the letters R+E had of course faded, but they still sent the same feeling on butterflies singing through Richie’s chest. He smiled at the sight, tears pricking at his eyes as he pulled the utility knife from his pocket and pressed it against the wood, tracing over the letters. The carving darkened, the weathered layer of wood dropping to the concrete and revealing a new layer of wood underneath. It reminded Richie of a snake shedding it’s skin to begin anew. 

He supposed that was what he was doing in a way. He was trying his hardest to put all of this trauma and heartbreak behind him, shedding that layer and donning a new one where the only thing he focused on was his set for his shows. 

Richie stood, giving the carving one last glance before getting back in his car and getting the hell out of Derry, hoping deep down he would never see that hellhole again.

\---

A shuddering gasp echoed against the walls of the sewer. The body lying against the rocks in the cavern lurched forward, and Eddie opened his eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first Reddie fic. If you enjoyed, feel free to scream at me on my tumblr - meginoi or my twitter - reddie_ally!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One Month Later - Richie is crying  
Six Months Later - Richie is drinking  
One Year Later - Richie is broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of depression, alcohol abuse and suicidal thoughts.

One Month Later:

Richie’s apartment was quiet, too quiet. He had lived on his own for years, the silence, before Derry, had been a comforting blanket, one that was a much needed reprieve from the hustle and bustle of the city outside his window. Now, however, it just felt suffocating. 

The last week felt like a really, really weird dream. Had he really gone back to his childhood town to kill an alien clown from outer space? It felt like the plot of Bill’s next book. As much as he tried to tell himself it was, it wasn’t, and he shelved it alongside the many other traumas he’d faced in his life in some deep dark corner of his mind. 

He staggered to his bed, kicking his shoes off along the way, and stayed there for two weeks. Of course, he had left his bed in that time, but only when he couldn’t stand the incessant growls of his stomach or the call for the bathroom became too much, but these times passed in a blur, and before he knew it he was buried beneath the covers again. 

He had, of course, dreamed in this time. Those hazy moments he remembered consisted of hot humid summers, seven pairs of bike tyres whizzing over asphalt, and a smile, oh god that smile, from a boy wearing tube socks, a fanny pack and a polo shirt. 

Then it had always taken a turn for the worst. 

_ They were approaching the neibolt house, bikes skidding to a stop for seemingly no reason other than a foreboding sense of dread. The sky darkened as the clouds twisted and moved, seemingly drawn to the tip of the house as they curled around the spire. The door creaked open ominously, and the group had stood there in silence, watching the frightening tale unfold.  _

_ If Richie didn’t know any better, he would have thought he’d watched one too many horror movies the night before, falling into a sleep where the frightening figures follow him. But he knew better.  _

_ The ground cracked beneath them, sending each tumbling in a different direction. Richie had been the only one to remain standing, the cracks splintering around him. Gruesome creatures from their nightmares rose out of the ground, taking hold of each of the losers and pulling them back to the earth.  _

_ Thick, red blood bubbled out from the crack that Bev stood above. “Oh my god,” She muttered, eyes going wide. Thin strings of it wound around her legs, pulling her down as she screamed and fought..  _

_ The voice of Georgie caused Bill to look down. “G-Georgie?” He asked, reaching down into the darkness. _

_ “Billy!” The unmistakable voice of Bill’s little brother cried back. A small hand wrapped around Bill’s wirst, bone-chilling laughter emanating from the darkness as it pulled him in.  _

_ The lady from the painting jumped onto Stan, grabbing his shoulders and forcing him backward into the abyss. “No! No no no!” Stan screamed, grappling to keep his grip on the edge of the ground. “Richie, help me!” _

_ Two charcoaled bodies climbed out and grabbed for Mike. “What the hell?! He shouted, fighting against the arms that were wrapped around him. They wrestled with him until they forced him down and out of sight with one last scream.  _

_ Henry Bowers jumped out and grabbed Ben, pressing a switchblade to his throat as he forced Ben to stumble back. He grinned grotesquely, “I’ve got you now!” He shouted, laughing maniacally.  _

_ “What?!” Ben gasped, his arms reached up to wrap around the hands that held the blade.  _ _ _

_ The leper reached up and knocked Eddie to the floor. “No! Richie!” He yelled, blindly scrabbling across the dirt. The leper chuckled, a dry, hacking laugh, before grabbing Eddie’s ankle and yanking him away.  _

_ Screams of his name echoed from all around him , screams of fear that begged him to move and save them. Richie, however, felt rooted to the spot. His feet felt glued to the floor, no amount of thrashing could get them to move, to run towards his friends and save the day.  _ __   
_   
_ __ He was useless. 

_ “Richie!”  _

_ “Richie, please! Save us!" _

_ “I thought you were our friend!” _

_ “Richie! Help!!” _

_ “Richie!!” _

_ “RICHIE!” _

Richie woke up in a cold sweat, sheets tangled between his legs. He gasped, heart racing as he took in his surroundings. It apartment looked the same as it always did. Moonlight filtered through the gap in the curtains, and all was quiet. The clock on his bedside table told him it was 4 o’clock in the morning. It was a dream, none of it was real. Only then did he start to cry. 

Six Months Later:

“Please welcome to the stage, Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier!” 

The crowd roared as he stepped out, the sound vibrating through his chest and down to his bones. He pasted on his ‘happy to be here’ smile, yet he felt like he’d rather be anywhere else. If he weren’t contractually obliged to do this tour he would be back at his apartment, watching some nameless true crime show and gorging on takeout.

He loved performing, he really did, the laughs from the audience gave him a shot of adrenaline that zinged through his veins. For one of the few times in his life, he knew people were laughing  _ with _ him, not  _ at _ him. 

He found the things he said funny, his writers were great at their job, but the jokes just weren’t him. Jokes about jacking off to his girlfriend’s best friend’s facebook page? That wasn’t him. But still, the audience laughed, and he got that shot of adrenaline he craved, but the empty feeling in his chest stayed. 

He’d find some back alley bar where he could numb the feeling with whisky later. He’d fall into a drunken stupor and somehow find his way back to the tour bus or his hotel, wherever they were staying that night. 

Then he’d do it all again at the next show. 

One Year Later: 

Richie stood in the corner at the party, smiling softly at his group of friends. Bill stood with Audra at the other side of the room, arms wrapped around each other’s waists, the epitome of a loving couple. Mike sat at a table, nursing a glass of whisky. Ben and Bev stood in the middle of the dance floor, completely immersed in one another as they swayed back and forth to a slow song. 

Richie smiled, it was nice to see his friends so happy, they deserved it. Ben and Bev deserved to be the happy, now engaged, couple they were. Bill and Audra deserved the domestic bliss they had. Mike deserved to get out of Derry and live the life he wanted. But Richie…

Did Richie deserve a happy ending? 

Because here he was, curled up in a corner at Ben and Bev’s engagement party wishing he was somewhere else, not anywhere in particular, just somewhere that wasn’t here. 

Even though no one else had realised, he had noticed. He wondered how long it had taken them to forget. To forget the events of Derry, to let their friend’s death fade out of their peripheral vision for other, what they deemed more important, things. He wondered how they didn’t realise Eddie had died one year ago today. He’d considered going back to Derry, but it would have only caused the pain that had slowly dulled to a dull ache to flare back up into something hot and sharp, a blue-hot flame of pain that burnt through his chest. 

He left the party early, feigning tiredness from his recently ended tour. The streets of Chicago were bustling with life. Cars idled in heavy traffic, their engines whirring with anticipation to move. People passed him on the sidewalk, each caught up with their own lives. Richie wondered if anyone would notice if he walked into oncoming traffic. 

That night he dreamed of Eddie. They stood in the Barrens, a slight breeze blowing through as the water lapped around their ankles. It was as hot as it had been that summer all those years ago, and Richie felt himself slipping back into that childhood giddiness. 

_ He held Eddie’s hands in his. Felt his warmth and smelt his cologne as he pulled him close, hands resting on Eddie’s hips. He told him how much he’d missed him, how much had been left unsaid. Eddie had reprociated the feelings, and Richie felt like he could fly. He had bought their lips close, closer still and-  _

Richie woke up. He wanted to scream until his lungs gave out. To tear the paintings from the wall in his hotel room and just explode, leaving a burning trail in his wake. 

Yet, he just lay there, staring at the ceiling as tears slipped down his cheeks. 

He was a shell of the person he once was, and it filled him with shame. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie meets up with Beverly, then has his world turned upside down.

The coffee shop was quiet but not empty. A few students from the college down the road were tucked together in corners, slouched in armchairs with their heads tucked deep into thick textbooks and numerous papers fanned out around them. The sky outside was grey from a gathering of storm clouds, an indicator of the oncoming rain. The distant whir of the working coffee machines was a welcome background noise, the rich and comforting aroma of the coffee invading his senses. 

Richie had always liked it here, it was calming, the atmosphere always managing to soothe his racing mind when he needed that relaxing silence the most. The park over the road was a nice view, watching people go about their daily lives while his felt like it was constantly crashing around him. 

A figure hurried past the large glass windows and into the shop.The bright red hair caught his eye, a comforting constant in the ever changing whirlwind he called his life. She smiled when she saw him, stepping across the tiled floor to pull him up and into a tight hug. 

“It’s so good to see you again, Rich,” She smiled, her hair had become lighter since he last saw her, the caramel highlights shining under the soft lighting. She grinned, sticking her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, she seemed relaxed, happy. 

Everything that Richie wasn’t. 

“It’s good to see you too, Bev,” He replied, returning to his seat, a wordless offer for her to do the same. 

“How longs it been? About six months?” Bev reached for the coffee Richie had ordered for her, cradling it between her hands. Even after so long apart he could still recite each of the losers’ coffee orders off by heart.

“Something like that,” Richie replied, thinking back to the last time he had seen any of the losers. They had all flown out to New York for Bill’s latest book release, about three months after the engagement party. It had been good to see them all again, like a breath of fresh air, a much needed reprieve from the stuffy streets of LA.

“You holding up okay?” 

He knew what she meant. Bev had always been able to read him, when he was younger he secretly thought she could read his thoughts. She could tell how he was feeling from the quirk of his lips, the finger that tapped absentmindedly on his coffee cup, the bags under his eyes that he hoped the rim of his glasses hid. She knew he wasn’t fine. 

“I’m fine, really i am.” He wasn’t “But what about you? How’s the future Mr and Mrs Haystack spending their days? And please, don’t spare any of the juicy details, i’m recording this conversation to sell to  _ Hello! _ after this.” 

Bev rolled her eyes. “Everythings just been so crazy lately, what with planning the wedding-”

Of course, the wedding. It was the easiest thing to distract Bev by turning the conversation to. Ben had proposed exactly one year after they had rekindled. One year to the day. Which also happened to be one year to the day of Eddie’s death. No one had noticed that but Richie. At the time, he had resented Ben and Bev for it, for being so happy. Why did they get to have the happy ending? The white picket fence with the kids and the dog, while his lay decomposing in the Derry sewers.

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, Bev, it’s fine. I’ve been busy too.” It wasn’t technically a lie, he had been busy. Another tour was lined up, hopefully one that would help him to successfully draw in a european audience. So, when asked, he went on stage, smiled, laughed and became Trashmouth Tozier, before lapsing back into what he had become now, a shell of the person he was. The jokes and quips had become harder to think of after returning from Derry, like he’d left that part of himself back in the sewers to fester and rot away. Sure, there were times when one slipped into his mind but it was… rarer than it used to be. “I have a Netflix special coming up, flying out to London tomorrow to film it.” 

“Oh, Richie, that’s great!” Bev gushed, reaching across to place a friendly hand on his wrist. Richie smiled softly, he knew he should share his friend’s enthusiasm, yet he couldn’t bring himself to.

“You are excited about it, aren’t you?”

“Oh of course. I’ve heard Brits are a tough crowd but if Trashmouth can’t make ‘em laugh, nothing will!” 

Bev laughed, light and airy. 

And he did, within five minutes of the lights going down at the O2 Arena he had them eating out of the palm of his hand. Turns out Brits liked dick jokes and toilet humour as much as Americans did. The lights that beamed down on him were overwhelmingly hot, a thin layer of sweat coating his forehead from them. The brightness of the spotlight was always the worst part about performing, it turned him blind, the faces of the audience fading into the darkness beyond the stage, all he could hear was their laughs, a faceless beast that existed to provide him with a cynical sense of validation. 

The show passed by in a blur. If you asked Richie what he remembered of it, he would say nothing. It was another nameless show. Sure, one where TV cameras caught his every move, but still one that had instantly faded into the back of his mind. No heckles that had caught his attention, no diversions from his normal stand up routine. It was just… normal. 

And that what Richie hated about it. He hated that this had become normal for him. To only feel anything when an audience laughed at his jokes. He hated that the routine he had once loved had become so mundane to him. He hated it, yet he was stuck. 

“Rich! You were great, pal! As always,” His manager exclaimed, awkwardly throwing an arm around him. Even though he was a full foot shorter than Richie - but who wasn't? He had always been obnoxiously tall - it was a habit they had started right off the bat. “Now, there’s a guy here i want you to meet. He’s an actor, trying to break America. For now, America is still very much intact. You could do great things for each other. His name is-”

“Eddie?” 

Edward Kaspbrack stood in front of him, very much alive and breathing. The same beautiful boy he’d left in Derry years ago.

Richie felt like he was going to pass out. This was all too much. It had to be some sick joke. That, or he had finally lost it, hallucinating the entire thing. But there Eddie was, as alive as he had been back in Derry. 

“Richie, right? Good to meet you, man,” Eddie smiled, offering his hand. 

Richie stared, bug eyed. If he took Eddie’s hand would all of this just fade away. Was this just a dream? A cruel dream, yet one that was intoxicating at the same time. And as soon as he took that hand Eddie would fade away again, once again just existing alive and warm in his mind. 

“Yeah, uh, good to meet you too.” He shook Eddie’s hand. “I’ve, um - sorry i’ve got to, um, i’ve got to go.” He rushed past Eddie, making a beeline for the restroom he knew was nestled in a little alcove around the corner. 

“Rich, wait-” 

The slam of the door muffled the rest of his manager’s shouts. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie wakes up

The boy gasped, his chest heaving as he lurched forward. His stomach churned, sending him onto his knees as he dry heaved onto the ground. He sniffed, wiping the tears from his eyes as his stomach settled, giving him his first proper chance to take in his surroundings. 

Where the hell was he? 

Better question, _ who _ the hell was he? 

He racked his brain, desperately searching for an answer. Yet, all he was met with was an inky blackness where his memories should have been. There was obviously a story to how he had ended up here, lying against a rock in… where even was he? A sewer? His hand instinctively went to his chest, fingers tracing the ragged outline of the tear in the fabric of his shirt.

He felt like the world's worst detective trying to piece together what little he did remember. It reminded him of that one time he tried to do a Rubik's cube blindfolded: impossible and frustrating. A flash of a memory crossed his mind before just as quickly disappearing. 

Soft hands cupping his face, gently pulling down the blindfold he wore to come face to face with brown eyes, those big, beautiful brown eyes.

“That was a good attempt, Eds. Too bad you’ll never be as good as _ moi” _

Ed’s, no, no. He didn’t like the sound of that. Eddie, however… that must be his name right? But who did that voice and those intoxicating eyes belong to? 

He pushed himself up onto shaky legs, one hand braced against the wall for support. He needed to get out of this hellhole, despite only spending a short while conscious in the morbid cavern, he knew it was not a place he should linger. 

There were people who would be worried about him, faces, some with names and some without, who would come looking for him eventually. His wife for one. 

His wife? 

Of course, fuck, his wife. Myra, was it?

He could remember their wedding, a day that felt stuffy and plastic, as though it would melt and burn away if placed under a hot flame. However, the months and years leading up to it were a blur of colours and numbness. He couldn’t actually remember falling for her. 

And that’s when he realised. 

He never actually had. 

He staggered over to the large gap in the wall, what he assumed was hopefully the exit, at the other side of the cavern. His steps echoed as he sloshed through the water. It seeped through his socks and shoes, making him release a disgusted shudder. 

The dim light in the cavern did little to aid him in his task. He stuck close to the wall, lest he should stumble into something he would rather avoid, something that would be better off fading into the inky blackness, never to be known again. 

Eddie guessed that was almost where he ended up. And then where would he be? The people that knew him would forget about him eventually, his face would fade from their minds like leaves that decayed as they fell from the trees, slowly until nothing remained. 

He would go out of the blue and into the black. 

His footsteps echoed in the tunnels of the sewers, bouncing off the walls and down into dark places unknown, places that were probably better to stay that way. His feet moved automatically, guiding him down the twists and turns that he wasn’t even conscious of. 

Yet, deep down he knew of their existence, as though he had travelled them before. _ Had he? _And his feet had never forgotten the path, leading him out of that dark, desolate place and into the sunlight of Derry. 

Yes, that’s definitely where he was, Derry, Maine. The streets were thankfully empty as he stumbled aimlessly along, the sun was just on the cusp of rising as people were not yet called from their beds. It was a blessing he should be thankful for, he cut an unnerving figure in his bloodstained shirt - whether it was his blood or another’s was an answer he was yet to find - and caked in dirt and grime from the sewers. Someone would surely notice something was wrong, and then where would he be? Taken away to some hospital to have test after test - 

_ “You’re sick Eddie-bear! This will help you feel better!” _

No. No tests. He knew he had visited enough hospitals in his lifetime to never set foot in one again, though the reason why still escaped him. Though who the shrill, piercing voice that reminded him of the fact belonged to still escaped him. 

A three story townhouse came into view, a weather worn sign swung on its hinges outside, announcing it as ‘Derry Townhouse.’

The hotel, if you could call it that, was seemingly abandoned from the outside. Only one car was parked outside it, a large black SUV, one that Eddie immediately recognised as his own. 

Wasn’t someone else supposed to be here? No, not just someone, multiple someones. 

Nevertheless, here he was, standing on an empty street with fractured pieces of memories floating around in his head like pieces of debris from a particularly violent storm. He knew this car was his, and he knew he had drove all the way from New York to this sleepy little town for some reason. 

But putting his finger on why seemed to be the problem. 

He rooted through his pockets, fishing out a car key that had stayed surprisingly intact throughout the fight. 

Wait, what fight? Had he fought someone?

Or something? 

That was all his mind seemed willing to give at that moment though, so he unlocked the car with a loud beep and threw open the door. 

_ Beep… _

_ Beep Beep… _

_ Beep Beep R- _

‘BEEEEEEEEP’ 

“What the fuck?!” Eddie shouted, launching himself back out of the car, removing his shoulder from where it had subconsciously moved to rest against the horn. He slapped a hand against his chest, desperately wishing for his racing heart to return to it’s calm, almost sluggish you might say, pace. 

He laughed to himself as the terror faded, the only rementants of it being a skittering feeling along the surface of his skin. He jumped back into the car, fingers wrapping around a little card that sat in the compartment that seperated the driver and passenger seat. He turned it over in his hands, a picture of himself looking miserable greeting him on the other side. He squinted, eyes roaming over the information printed in block letters. 

Edward Kaspbrack. So that was his name. He lived in New york? Why? It was chaotic and dirty and not his scene at all, he knew that much. 

Sighing, he punched the address into the sat nav and turned the keys in the ignition, bringing the car roaring to life. The sooner he got out of Derry, the better. 

—-

“Eddie, is that you? Where the hell have you been? You were supposed to be back- Oh my god,” The accusatory tone in Myra’s voice failed her as she hurried round the corner, coming face to face with her husband for the first time in a couple of weeks. 

Eddie could understand her shock, after going radio silent for god knows how long it had been, now he turned up on their doorstep covered in dirt and grime from the sewers, it was bound to be disorientating. 

But he couldn’t focus on that right now. He thought the feeling of needing to run would dissipate the further he got from Derry, yet it only became stronger, more panicked. He needed to go further, faster. 

He barged past her into their apartment. Her footsteps echoed behind him as he rushed through to their bedroom.

“Eddie! Answer me! They told me you were-”

“I can’t stay here. I’ve got to go.” Eddie delved into the wardrobe, pulling out a large canvas bag identical to the two already sitting in the back of his car. 

“Go? Go where?!”

“I don’t know. Anywhere that’s not here.”

“Eddie, you’ve got to tell me what’s going on. I don’t understand!” Myra screeched, tears now spilling down her cheeks. 

“You wanna know what’s going on? I just woke up in a goddamn sewer with no clue of how i ended up there. Now I've got to go, I don't know why, just something is pulling me. Telling me to get as far away from Derry as possible.”

“You sound crazy, you know that? So you’re just gonna come home, after supposedly being crushed to death, or at least that what _ they _ told me, and just jet off again. What about everything you’re leaving behind Eddie? What about me?! What about your _ wife _?”

Eddie turned to where she stood in the doorway, the black pair of trousers he held dropping into a crumpled heap on the floor. He walked towards her, slipping off the gold band around his ring finger and pressing it into her shaking palm. 

“It was never real for either of us. You know that,” Eddie whispered, staring at the ring that now lay in Myra’s hand. He instantly felt lighter, as though he had finally been unshackled for the first time in years. “Goodbye, Myra.” 

He zipped up the canvas bag and carried it through the apartment, antsy to get out of that suffocating apartment. He knew what he was doing was harsh, but it was best for both of them, living a lie was pointless, and Eddie was done watching his fly by in a whirlwind of moments that held no deeper meaning. 

The airport seemed like the best place to go, yes, jump on the first plane leaving, the visa he’d found tucked neatly beside his passport would cover most places. His poorly formed plan was rash and could fail spectacularly, but it was just the kind of adrenaline kick he needed. 

And so, he jumped on a plane to London. Ready to start rebuilding a new life from the ashes of one he barely remembered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to post this on Saturday because i went out, whoops. If you're enjoying this fic, please leave a comment or come scream at me on my twittter @reddie_ally or my tumblr @meginoi


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